


always running

by jaeger_bombtastic



Category: Temple Run
Genre: Adventure, F/F, F/M, Lesbian, M/M, Porn With Plot, temple run - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-03 14:09:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5294150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaeger_bombtastic/pseuds/jaeger_bombtastic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scarlett Fox has been running from the demon monkey her entire life. Every morning is the same, she wakes up and the monkey is released as millions watch in anticipation as she runs, jumps, slides, and turns. Her life is a dull monotone, that is until she befriends the mysterious and powerful Karma Lee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1 (prologue)

~Prologue~  
Childhood is something that is very foreign and strange to me. The idea of laughing, playing in a field, getting tucked in to bed every night with a story and a kiss. I'm sure I must have has one at some point, a mother to play with my baby feet and a father to wrap his strong arms around my shoulders. It must have been so nice. However, I don't remember any such childhood. All there is is waking up each morning, and running. Running until I can't run anymore, then the beast gets me if I don't die some other horrifically graphic way. My wounds heal, and the next thing I know I'm up again, the haunting sound of creaking gates awaiting me like a cat to a mouse.


	2. Chapter 2

The pains shot through my head as they always do, they never stop, really. All the muscles in my body ached as I rose up from my shitty cot, the smell of the damp room in my temple filling my nostrils. It was dark, and the clock next to me had no time. It was just there to mock me, to remind me that I'm here for eternity. A light switched on in the cubicle for me to live in, and a voice indicated that it was mealtime. I pressed my palm to my forehead, feeling beads of sweat forming just under my red hairline. I must have had a nightmare, of course I wouldn't remember it, it would take away my focus from the game. 

A pile of my everyday clothes was neatly folded at the foot of my bed, I don't know who does it but it's always the same clothes there every morning. A beige, unnecessarily tight tanktop, khakis that clung to my skin so well it seemed painted, a dark brown belt that served no purpose, knee pads and a glove for the zipline, and knee high black combat boots that gave me foot pains. I pulled my hair back into a secure ponytail, so secure that my scalp hurt. I looked at my reflection in the growing pool of water in the corner of my room as my bed disappeared behind me. It was the exact same as yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that. I wasn't real, I didn't have pimples or freckles or peach fuzz on my lip, they engineered me to be a perfect human being to take away the existing bond to the outside world that I possessed before. 

The hallway leading to the breakfast area was dark and long, when I finally entered, I greeted my only companion, Guy Dangerous. In a dull monotone, he chewed his breakfast mush, his face dark and determined. He had been here long before I had, but it was decided that a female runner was needed to become more relatable to the viewers. I could see every bite he took with his sharp jawline, his pasty arm muscles rippling with every movement. The white button down he wore was artificially ripped on his left shoulder, and it always pissed him off because in this game, you can't get hurt, nothing's permanent. Everything is perfect and programmed, so the tear was just there to simulate reality.

"Oh shit, looks like you need tailor for your shirt again," I said as I sat across him from the dining table, arms crossed as I watched his reaction. 

"You know me, can't keep a shirt together for ten fucking minutes," he shrugged, already used to my sarcasm. We ate in silence, neither of us really felt like speaking. The food was tasteless, but it kept me full. It was like oatmeal without seasoning or cream, just water and dust flakes mashed up with some protein. I stared at the bowl, trying to remember a childhood in which this bowl could have been filled with something more interesting, or remembering a childhood at all.

My pondering was interrupted by the harsh sound of a knife cutting into wood, the vibrations in the table causing me to jolt up in surprise.

"You die around fifty times a day," Guy smirked, his fist clenched around the handle of his knife. "Eternally running from blood-lusting monkeys, yet a small sound is what scares you," he looked up at me, his smile crooked and his eyes bright.

I watched him carve, etching into the polished wood, shavings piling up with each swipe. The messy letters spelled out the phrase "SCARLETT FOX, WE ARE REAL". It was his lame attempt to cheer me up, I blew the shavings off of the table in Guy's direction, his face scrunching up at the splinters on his nose. I had known Guy for as long as I remember, he was there to help when I first arrived, confused and upset. 

"Guy Dangerous," a cold, female voice echoed from the walls, and as the mush vanished from his bowl the color vanished from his face and the brightness in his eyes went away. He was a mere robot at this point, but I could tell a part of him was there as his fists clenched so hard his knuckles whitened. He set his jaw and walked blindly towards the opening door, as a cage was brought out to meet him. Inside was where the beast was kept. 

It was thrashing against the steel bars of the cage, all of its greasy black hairs on end. Its tongue lashed out of the arrowhead shaped skull it resided in, releasing a hiss that sounded like the asthmatic scream of a ceiling fan. Its arms, if you could even call it that, were disproportionate to its body, unnaturally toned and bulging with restraint, held upright by the sharp black claws that have torn me apart time after time. I felt sick to my stomach, watching it, but it was not its terrifying physique that rattled me, no. It was the eyes. In dark, sunken, lifeless sockets glowed bright yellow pupils the size of peas. It seemed as though the darkness in the socket rotated around the light in a twisted pinwheel of movement. 

I looked away as it was let out of its cage, an guttural roar filling the room with cold and fear.


End file.
